


Philosophy

by mrspollifax



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-12
Updated: 2008-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspollifax/pseuds/mrspollifax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jonas left the SGC, he was asked to help lead his people. He probably didn't think it would look like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Philosophy

It's not the first time. He turns it over in his mind, staring down at his hands pressed hard against the tabletop, stark against the dark wood.

It's not the first time he's been on the run from his government. Not the first time he's faced impossible odds. Not the first time he's tried to engineer the downfall of a despotic regime of intergalactic bad guys.

It's just the first time he's done it on his own.

As he studies the cracks and grooves in the surface beneath his fingers, follows the paths and the patterns, he thinks it's all sort of like a silly question he heard on Earth, about perception and reality; a cross of philosophy and physics wondering idly about whether a tree falling in the forest would make a sound if no one was around.

He misses idle philosophy.

"Jonas?"

Because it's not philosophy anymore. If ever there were a time when a tree crashing to the ground and taking half the woods with it wouldn't make a single damn sound, that time would be right now; but it doesn't matter. Of all the things he learned on Earth, the only one that's really relevant is this - that _hopeless_ isn't a condition that can be allowed to exist. That you fight the fight again and again, skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle, war after war until nothing remains to fight or nothing remains of you.

He pushes away from the table, turns back to the little group of men and women he's gathered, refugees from another time, everyday people who think they can somehow resist awesome and near-infinite power, unlikely soldiers who are looking at him. Before he walks past them and out the door, he meets their gazes, each one alone.

It's not the first time. Maybe for some of them it won't be the last.

"Okay. Let's go."


End file.
